Puppy Love
by Estelluerite
Summary: Arthur's musing during his bittersweet 8th grade promotion. Because he didn't want his pretty American to leave him for another high school. AU, middle school promotion, UKUS (USUK)


**AN: Hey guys! So this little bittersweet one-shot was based on my 8** **th** **grade promotion, which happened a few days ago. A lot of my friends experienced this type of departure, as many of them ended up going to different high schools. So uh enjoy!**

…

Under the hot, beating sun, Arthur Kirkland was dozing off, lulled by the monotonous drone of his principal's long end-of-the-year closing statement and the overpowering mugginess of the nearing summer.

But he couldn't bring himself to fall into the throes of a catnap, oh no, the sight in front of him was too delicious - but all too ephemeral - to give up. He _needed_ to drink it in, because there was a perturbingly large chance he would never see it again.

He longed to run his own sweaty fingers through the golden, hay-colored strands of hair that flew up due to the gentle breeze blowing by; to lean forward and bury his face into the crook of that sun-kissed neck and lovingly bite into it - lightly, of course, because he wouldn't want to hurt his darling - but just enough to mar the unblemished skin and leave his mark on the pretty claim. Maybe it would rouse a delectable shudder from the boy, and even make a small, needy noise escape his perfectly plump and pink lips that Arthur would _die_ to kiss senseless.

This terribly delightful infatuation for the young boy, Alfred, had started out innocent enough. It was in his homeroom Algebra I class that they had met for the first time, when he had sat down in the cold, metal seat of his desk and Alfred had plopped down in the seat right next to him. Giving him a once over as the messy American pulled out his school supplies, Arthur's eyes stopped to be enraptured with the _arrestingly_ beautiful sky-blue eyes that the other boy revealed as he turned over to face him with a bright and amiable megawatt grin on his face.

Oh, he could gaze into that electric pair of azure orbs for _days_ \- they held a certain spark in them, a spark that Arthur had yet to find in another. It drew him to the boy, and left him flushed and speechless whenever he gave so much as a glance to him.

(That wasn't very convenient for Arthur, though, because Alfred tended to look at him _a lot_ after Arthur had enlisted his help for math tutoring. Probably not the best idea on his part, but he wanted to get closer to the boy, and that solution was just killing two birds with one stone.)

He had spent his 8th grade year daydreaming about those strong arms, that muscled chest, and how much he would love to spend his days embraced in them. He'd run a hand over the boy's ample ass and trace over those lovely, rounded hips; the ones that would teasingly sway at him whenever their tutoring hour was up and Alfred left the library with his back to Arthur. Ah, how he hated seeing Alfred leave, but loved to watch him go.

It was strange to him at first, these fanciful feelings. He'd never been so obsessed with anyone before, but now he found himself waking early in the mornings, eager to get to school and see his American beauty. His dorky, sweet, boisterous American, which he never wanted to give up for the world.

But it seemed he would have to now, because this year wouldn't last forever. In fact, it would be ending very soon, because the last speaker had just finished her speech, and the loud, celebratory _pop!_ of streamers bursting and the latest pop music suddenly playing aloud pulled Arthur out of his delightful reverie, reminding him that he would have to leave the pretty sight of Alfred in front of him very, very soon.

Too soon, in his opinion.

In mass unison, the promoted 8th graders stood up out of the cheap plastic chairs they had all been patiently sitting in for the last hour or so. They were all weary and lethargic from that bore of a ceremony, and were ready to depart the school they had spent the last two years of their life at in favor of going out with their friends to celebrate.

 _Likely to party with each other and get ice-cream_ , Arthur mused, as he remembered Alfred mournfully telling him - Alfred was planning to go out with them, too, but was unable to, as his parents wanted him to go home and prepare for their out-of-state vacation.

He sighed as he stood up with the rest of his peers, turning to Alfred in hopes of getting in some final words of the year to him.

Alfred wouldn't meet his eyes, though.

Arthur awkwardly cleared his throat.

"So, Alfred, it's been a fun year with you," he started. Inwardly, he cursed himself out. He had wanted that to be so much smoother, but apparently, the cat got his tongue in this crucial moment.

Alfred turned to him, looking through his long, fluttering lashes. He smiled, albeit a bit unsurely. "Yeah, dude… I, um… I have to go soon, aha…"

Arthur blushed, embarrassed that he even _attempted_ to steal the slightest bit of time and attention from this angel before him. "Oh, my apologies, I'll let you go then…"

Alfred shot up, alarmed.

"Oh, wait, Arthur, I, uh, had something to tell you…"

The boy looked back at some of his other friends, nervously it seemed. They gave him an encouraging grin and mouthed the words, "You can do it!" at Alfred, but what for?

Arthur got his answer when Alfred suddenly threw his arms around his neck and _kissed his cheek_ \- oh, how he had _longed_ for him to do that, the gods must be smiling upon him today - before whispering, "I love you, old man," ( _that_ would keep Arthur up for days on end, oh boy), and shoving a tiny scrap of paper into his hand.

"Keep in touch," Alfred breathed, and then he was gone; scampered off with his cheering friends out of the school, and unfortunately, out of Arthur's arms.

He stood there, shell-shocked, at what just happened to him then - could he really believe that maybe, just maybe, his American loved him too?

He looked down at the little piece of lined paper that Alfred gave to him - torn out of an old notebook, no doubt - and looked at the phone number and the words, "Call me! XOXO, Alfred".

His eyes widened to the size of saucers, his face flushed a bright shade of red, and his heart skipped so many beats it was a wonder he was still alive in that moment.

"Git," he said softly.

He would have to give that number a ring tonight.

…

 **AN: Thank you for reading! Please drop a review and tell me what you think of it! :D**


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